


Stitch in Time

by Brate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Humor, Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys arrive in a town where everyone seems to know Dean. Unfortunately, he's never been there before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitch in Time

"So, what's so special about this place?" Sam Winchester asked his brother as the Impala sped past the road sign: Glacier National Park 30 Miles.

Dean shrugged. "Been meaning to check it out—seems something's going on."

"Something like what?"

"Disappearances."

"Any idea what's causing them?"

"Not a clue." Dean turned and smirked. "Should be fun, right?"

Ignoring him, Sam scanned the horizon before returning his attention to the map. "Well, there are three small towns in the area you marked. Where should we head first, Somers, Creston, or Bigfork?"

"Creston," Dean said with certainty.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine, take a right after Kalispell."

Within the hour, they found themselves on the outskirts of Creston. It was very small, barely a town, having few businesses, one motel, and a single traffic light—blinking yellow. Dean eased into the lone, one-pump gas station.

Sam got out to pay while Dean filled the car. He swept through the small convenience store, choosing some snacks from what little they had to offer. Placing his selections on the counter, Sam pulled out his wallet.

The clerk waved a hand. "It's cool."

"Sorry?" Sam looked up, not sure he understood.

"No charge."

Confused, Sam shook his head. "But why?"

"You're with him." The clerk pointed through the window at Dean.

Sam looked at his brother, then back to the clerk. The teenager was wearing a goofy smile as he put the items in a bag. Sam didn't like to look a gift horse in the mouth and wasn't keen on the credit card fraud, but he was hesitant to accept handouts, especially when he didn't understand why. However, the Winchester way was to go with the flow.

"Okay, thanks." Sam grabbed his "purchases" and returned to the car. He tossed the sack to his brother and got in the car, frowning.

"All set?" Dean got in next to him and rummaged through the bag. He pulled out a pack of Twinkies, grinned triumphantly, and shoved them back inside.

"Yeah…I guess." Something about that had been _very_ weird.

"What's wrong?"

"He didn't charge us," Sam reported. "Said it was 'cause of you."

Dean took it in stride. "What have I always said: when you're with me, the world is your oyster."

Sam snorted.

Dean nodded his head to the right. "I'm starved, let's eat." He didn't wait for a response before parking in the small lot of the town's diner.

"Works for me," Sam said, stepping from the car, "if you think you can keep your fans away."

"Hell, I'm used to beating them off with a stick." Dean held the restaurant door open for Sam with a flourish.

Heads swiveled as they walked in. A few of the customers' faces broke out with wide smiles.

"Hi, Dean!"

"Nice to see you, Dean."

Dean stopped short, gaping in shock.

"Got your stick handy?" Sam whispered.

Recovering his cool, Dean politely nodded at the diners and hurried to the booth in the back corner. He took a seat, ducking his head.

Sam, with eyebrows raised, scooted in on the other side. "You sure you've never been here before?"

"No, dude, I swear."

Sam eyed the customers, still watching them and smiling. "Looks like they think different—and you made quite an impression."

"I have _not_ been here before. Ever."

Their waitress—Bonnie—arrived, a big smile on her face. "Dean, sweetie, good to see you again." She ruffled Dean's hair.

Sam shot Dean a suspicious glare. But his brother appeared honestly confused and lying about it to Sam didn't seem to serve a purpose. Not that Dean was above lying to him "when necessary."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, burying his face in the menu, "but this is my first time in Creston."

"Of course it is, darling," Bonnie agreed, giving him a big wink and a bump of her hip. "What'll it be?"

Dean flushed and stammered out his order. Sam followed, trying to hide his smile.

~*~*~*~

After she left, Sam leaned in close and whispered harshly, "This is what I was talking about at the gas station." He shot his brother a significant glance. "And you ignored me."

"Maybe if you'd told me how freaky it was, I'd've paid attention," Dean hissed back.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Bonnie brought their orders, setting them down with a flourish. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thanks," Sam answered when it was clear Dean was not going to.

They started eating. Dean kept shooting baleful glances around the diner. Sam followed his brother's eyes; every customer was watching them—no, _Dean_ —eat. And not being very inconspicuous about it.

"Don't these people have something better to do?" Dean asked.

"Guess not." Sam shrugged. "Looks like you're it."

"Well…they should get cable."

The brothers finished quickly. Dean was already getting up as he shoved the last bite of hamburger in his mouth. "Let's get out of here." He turned, caught Bonnie's eye, and signaled for the check.

She waved her hand. "It's on the house," she called.

Dean's hand stalled bringing his wallet out of his pocket. "Come again?"

"Your money's no good here, honey."

"Uh, thanks," Dean said, wary. He stumbled backward and fairly pushed Sam out the door. "I don't know about this place, man."

"Could be nothing," Sam said. "You've traveled around a lot, you probably just forgot."

"I did _not_ forget; I've never been here in my life." Dean slammed the door to the Impala harder than necessary.

Sam dropped in the front seat. "Maybe your evil twin dropped by." He shut the door as Dean squealed away. "But I guess in your case your evil twin would be good."

"Bite me."

Sam chuckled. "Although, there must be a reason they all seem to love you," he mused.

"Hey," Dean defended, "I'm naturally lovable."

"Yeah, okay."

Dean pulled the car into the parking lot of the motel. Both got out and walked into the office.

The desk clerk barely glanced at the newcomers, until he saw who it was. Then his face lit up like a kid at Christmas.

"Oh, geez, here we go again," Dean mumbled.

Sam shushed his brother and walked up to the counter. "We'd like a room."

"Sure, of course, how many nights?"

"Just one for now."

"No problem." Sam signed the book and the clerk handed the key to Dean.

Hesitant, as if afraid of the inevitable answer, Dean asked, "Um, how much for the room?"

"No charge, are you kidding? The town would flay me if I took money from you."

"Of course they would." Dean turned around and walked out.

By now, Sam had moved past humor through curiosity and well into creepiness. He truly believed Dean had never been here before, but it made the situation stranger. Sam shot the clerk a sickly smile and hurried after his brother. Before he could say anything, Dean held up a hand.

"I don't want to hear it."

"Dean…"

"Seriously, Sam, back off." Dean snagged his duffle from the car and headed for the room.

Sam did the same, still trying to get a response. "There's got to be a reason."

"Oh, I know the reason."

"You do?" Thank God. "What is it?"

"The town's nuts."

Sam frowned, deflated.

"Wacko. Crazy. Psycho…"

"Dean—"

"Loco. Mental…"

"Dean!"

Unlocking the door, Dean didn't bother turning. "What?"

"This is starting to worry me."

Dean swung open the door and walked in, tossing his stuff on the nearest bed. "What _doesn't_ worry you, Sam?" He flopped down and started removing clothes from the bag.

Sam narrowed his eyes. Dean might be good—okay, great—at hiding his feelings from everyone else, but not from Sam. He knew his brother was weirded out, but of course the jerk would never admit it. He'd just continue to make Sam feel as if he was overreacting.

Not this time. "Let's go see if this one-horse town has a library," Sam prompted.

Dean didn't look up from unpacking. "You go ahead. I'll stay here and see if I can find something on the laptop."

Gotcha. "I'd feel better if you came with me."

Dean looked up, incredulous. "Do you need me to hold your hand?"

"Something might attack me," Sam continued poking the bear, "and I might need the great and powerful Dean to save me."

Dean smiled. He must have guessed what Sam was doing. "Why is today different from any other?"

"Fine, fine." Sam gave him a break. "I'll just sit here and beat your ass at cribbage."

"Hell, Sammy, you never could peg for shit."

Snorting softly, Sam unpacked the cribbage board and cards. He set up the game and the brothers settled in.

~*~*~*~

Sam looked up from the laptop. Dean was still watching television and doing his best to ignore any conversation. Sam had been researching the small town online, trying to find anything that would explain what was going on. But the only mention he had found concerning Creston was in relation to a Cow Pie Festival, not very helpful.

He closed the laptop with a snap and folded his hands over the cover. "I saw a bowling alley/pool hall when we came in," Sam called. "You could knock in some balls, earn some cash."

Dean waved a hand, not taking his eyes of the TV. "No, thanks, I'm good."

Wow, this was serious. Sam was so used to seeing his brother fearless—no hesitation before diving into trouble. He wasn't quite sure what to do about this. "We need to go get something to eat, at least."

Dean flashed the pack of Twinkies. "I'm all set."

Before Sam could reply, the phone rang. He exchanged a confused look with his brother. Who would be calling them? Sam snatched it up. "Hello?"

" _Hi there, this is Lou at the front desk. I was wondering if you boys needed anything._ "

"Needed anything?"

" _Yeah. Do you have enough towels? Margaret just made some sandwiches I could send over._ "

"No…thanks. We've got all we need."

" _Oh_." Lou's disappointment surged over the line. " _Well, if you need anything—at all—give me a call and let me know. Anytime, no problem._ "

"Sure, thanks, Lou." Sam hung up the phone and sat down on the bed.

"Who was it?" Dean asked.

"The president of your fan club." Sam changed his mind. He was staying here with his brother tonight; he'd lost his appetite.

~*~*~*~

Blinking against the late morning light, Sam returned to the motel. He wasn't quite sure what to make of what he'd learned, but for some reason he believed it. It had been confirmed by no less than three people and a newspaper write-up. If this was some elaborate hoax by the small town to mess with two strangers, they'd done a good job.

Sam unlocked the door and strolled through, not bothering to be quiet, knowing his brother was up. And probably pissed.

He was right.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean demanded, charging out of the bathroom. "Anything could've happened in this nutty town."

"I'm fine, _Dad_. I left a note."

"I found it. 'Be back soon,' " Dean read. "What the hell does that mean?"

"That I would be back soon," Sam returned calmly. "Listen, I'm fine. I just had to find out a few things."

"And did you?"

"Yes."

Dean growled. "Sam, I am _not_ in the mood."

"Is that supposed to shock me?" A lethal glare had Sam rolling his eyes, but giving in. "All right, you're probably going to want to sit down for this."

Dean looked at him as if Sam had suggested painting the Impala pink, but he complied.

Sam took the chair opposite and leaned over, placing his elbows on his knees. "I decided to go out this morning and see if I could figure out what was going on around here. I talked to a few people who told me an interesting story."

Dean stared impassively, waiting.

"One day a few weeks ago," Sam continued, "this crazy man showed up out of nowhere and started running toward the children in the park, yelling. He grabbed a pick-axe from a construction site, jumped a bench, and stuck the axe into the head of…something coming out of the ground. A giant worm." He paused to see Dean's reaction. A brief _hurry it up_ gesture was what he got. "He saved the kids it was about to consume, and he told everyone in town to gather at the church—men, women, children."

"What does this have to do with me?" Dean asked impatiently.

"The crazy man called himself 'Dean Winchester.'"

Sam could see Dean's mind going a mile a minute, probably through the various directions his had taken when he'd heard: shapeshifter, doppelganger, skinwalker.

"But—"

"Once everyone was safe in the church, _Dean_ sketched out a plan to kill this monster worm," Sam continued over his brother's interruption. "With the help of some of the townspeople, Dean got some dynamite—don't ask—and raw meat, and laid a trap to destroy it."

"Dynamite? Really?" Dean seemed thrilled at the notion.

"You _have_ always favored the bigger bang over the smaller one," Sam acknowledged. "Unfortunately, the worm wouldn't fall for it. So Dean decided to take matters into his own hands…hand." Sam watched as a frown creased Dean's face and he unconsciously rubbed his left palm. Sam wondered if his brother somehow knew what was coming.

"Dean went outside while everyone watched through the church windows. He stopped next to the raw meat and took out a knife, slicing his palm and dripping blood on the ground."

"Because the creature could smell blood from deep underground," Dean murmured. "A Terichik."

Sam was surprised. He'd never even _heard_ of that one. "Within seconds, the worm came back, swallowing the bait as Dean dove away and yelled for them to blow it."

"Did it work?" Dean asked, riveted.

"Yep." Sam nodded. "One big explosion and the town was covered in worm gore."

"Cool."

"The townspeople looked for Dean to thank him, but he'd disappeared. Seemed the townspeople were afraid he'd been swallowed by the worm or caught in the blast." Sam eyed his brother warily. "No wonder they were so happy to see you…alive."

"Sam, you know that wasn't me," Dean asserted. "I've been with you for the last seven months."

"There's more."

"Of course there is." Dean threw up his hands.

Sam handed Dean a photocopied newspaper article. It reported the same basic story Sam had just told.

Dean shrugged. "Big deal. No pictures, no proof."

"Look at the date, Dean," Sam said softly.

It had been published over a month ago, the day Dean had been electrocuted fighting the rawhead—the day Dean had died. Just for a minute or two. But perhaps that was all he had needed.

"Oh." Dean masked his obvious inner turmoil with a deceptive tranquility. He placed the paper down and started packing his bag, shoving everything in, not bothering to fold anything.

"So what do you think happened?" Sam pressed.

"I don't know."

Sam knew his brother too well and could see Dean's restrained agitation. He decided to give him a break. "Only you."

Dean looked up with a question in his eyes.

"Only you would see dying as a chance to save more people."

Dean shrugged dismissively. "It's what I'm good at."

"That's true." Sam nodded. "What do you think we should do?"

"Get the hell outta here," Dean said instantly. "The problem's been solved."

Sam smirked, moving to get his bag packed. "You don't want to stick around for your parade?"

"I'm not much for parades." Dean held up the article. "What should I do with this?"

Snagging it from his brother, Sam deadpanned, "We'll put it in your scrapbook." He zipped up his bag. "Well, hero, ready to hit the road?"

"More than…let's go."

Driving out of town, they passed townspeople who happily waved at the pair. Dean grudgingly returned the waves, willing his car to go faster. He didn't relax until they'd passed over the Montana border.

Sam subtly observed Dean, trying to read past the mask he'd put on. He caught his brother looking at his left palm, at the scar that wasn't there. "Do you remember any of it?" Sam asked.

Dean's head snapped up, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Um, a little, I guess." He licked his lips. "Almost like it was a dream."

So it _had_ actually happened.

Not sure how to deal with the revelation and knowing his brother would hate anything else, Sam decided to avoid the touchy subject and satisfy his own curiosity. "So, how did you know about the Terichik, anyway?"

Visibly relieved, Dean flashed a smile. "Dude, obviously I'm a genius."

"Uh-huh."

"And I watched _Tremors_."

Sam twisted sharply. "That Kevin Bacon flick? It's a piece of crap."

"It's a classic," Dean shot back. "As soon as I finished watching, I looked up what the graboids might've been."

"Don't tell me…"

"That writer really did his homework," Dean confirmed. "Never know what'll come in handy, Sammy."

"I really didn't need to know that." Sam ran a hand through his hair. He looked over with a sly smile. "Hey, you think you saved any other towns while you were out of body?"

"I guess we won't know for sure until we see a statue erected in my honor." Dean thought about it for a second. "I'd make a damn good statue."

"Definitely," Sam agreed without hesitation.

"You think?" Dean looked pleasantly surprised.

"Sure." Sam nodded seriously. "Statues don't talk." He threw back his head and cackled, ducking the swipe Dean aimed his way.


End file.
